


Growing Up Seekers

by Beautiful_Infinity



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Multi, OCs - Freeform, Other, Sparklings, Sticky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-06 22:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beautiful_Infinity/pseuds/Beautiful_Infinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world at war, neutrals suffer the consequences of being neutral. The Autobot flagship stumbles across one such casualty and they may not be prepared for what they find in the wreckage of the neutral Seekers' ship... Sticky and Sparkling Ocs ahead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Discovery Beneath Tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I know that you are probably all wondering where the new HiWtHi chapter is, but don't worry. It's underway. This bunny bit me and wouldn't let go so here I am starting ANOTHER story... Oh woe is me! *headdesk*
> 
> Still, I'm already rather fond of the idea and the story has grown on me! Warnings ahead. OCs. But they're cute Oc's ^^
> 
> Just a quick word to avoid confusion. This fic is a mix of G1 themes and Bayverse themes. So it doesn't necessarily follow any format or storyline other than the one I give it! Also, they never actually go to Earth in this one.
> 
> Read, enjoy and let me know what you think!
> 
> Disclaimer: Transformers and all recognizable characters belong to Hasbro. All OCs are mine.
> 
> Enjoy ~

Space had always been an unpredictable frontier for any species. Sometimes it could be cold and uncaring, throwing any to its deep depths to rot alone, or with unfriendly natives of a different world. Other times, it was giving, one finding fuel or a new planet with friendly life. And still at others it was just one backdrop of beauty to behold. It had always brought a sense of mystery to sentient beings alike, each species reaching to grasp hold of its answers like an organic grasped for food when hungry or water when thirsty.

Cybertronians were no exception.

Eons of exploring space and even establishing intergalactic trade with near and far planets and still their scientists, explorers, dreamers and theoreticians had only ever scratched the surface. There was no conquering it and it played no favorites.

It never differentiated between weak or strong, good or evil.

All were subjected to whatever fate it wished to deal you. And often times, that fate was not a kind one.

Optimus Prime, bearer of the Matrix of Leadership and holder of military and political power over his entire planet, reflected on these different sides of space and the universe as he stared at the display screen on the command deck of the Ark. The large red and blue commander sighed sadly at the sight of the debris that had once been a neutral ship escaping from the war on their home planet of Cybertron. How many lives had been lost in this asteroid field? How many lost to the lasers of whatever merciless ship that had shot the passenger shuttle into its sorry state? How many more lost to the cold void of space? How many more still lost to Megatron's cold war?

He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

: Sir, the field team is ready to board. Awaiting your orders:

The Prime sighed, his saddened gaze turning away from the sight on the screens and he answered his comm. and the rumbling voice of his Weapons Specialist and long time friend. : Very well, Ironhide. Take your team when ready. :

On the docking deck of the large battle cruiser, Ironhide nodded and shut off his communicator, the large black armored mech turning to allow his piercing blue optics to observe his small team of field soldiers that would be accompanying him.

Sideswipe, the red painted devil stood next to his golden twin Sunstreaker, tall and broad frames tense. One shifted eagerly, ready to get going and the other… was admiring his golden paint in the reflective surface of the crate he stood by. Sideswipe was a little too energetic and far too much of a trouble maker for Ironhide's liking and Sunstreaker too stand offish and vain, but they were good soldiers and frontline warriors. Their teamwork when together was unrivaled and they were always eager to jump into a fight if they were needed or not.

Hoist stood beside them, cheerful as he could be in a situation like this. Personally, Ironhide would have preferred to leave him here, the mech not much of an asset in battle, but this was a retrieval mission and his expertise on what was usable and what was not was needed. The yellow-tan of his paint reflected in the very crate that Sunstreaker was looking in with full attention.

The Protectobot First Aid shifted from pede to pede nervously and Ironhide didn't blame him. The tall, lanky red and white medical assistant was on no way a warrior although he had all the necessary basic training of surviving. Not that he really ever needed it, the way his gestalt brothers herded around him and protected him. But he was necessary, an asset in his own right both as a gestalt piece and a medic. He just needed to grow a back strut. Well, kid was still young. Plenty of time left if the war didn't cut him short a few vorns. Plus, the kid had a soft part of Ironhide's spark

And last, but certainly not least was their minibot companion Bumblebee. The black and yellow espionage scout stood at attention, ready for any action and even younger than First Aid. And Ironhide would know, considering he had mostly raised the youngling. While it made him nervous for the just barely adult to accompany them in battle and other war related activities, Ironhide would be the first to admit that Bumblebee had earned the right to stand next to all of them. He was quick, agile and efficient in espionage and scouting. And certainly not bad in servo to servo, Ironhide had made sure of that. His doorwings were flaring gently, indicating his readiness.

Altogether, a rag tag crew, but one that covered all angles. Prowl was good with working with what they had.

"All right, mechs, ya heard Prime. We get in, get what we need and salvage anything else and get out. We don't want to draw any other attention while we're out there. The Ark needs fixing before we can head her into any conflict." The black behemoth stated, crossing his arms as all attention focused on him. "Internal comms only and for Primus sake, Sideswipe, no jetpacks. Stay with us." The loud whine that accompanied that was cut off with a clang, indicating that Sunstreaker had smacked his brother. "Right. Let's go."

Activating his grav-mags in his pedes to keep from just floating off, Ironhide watched as the rest of his crew did the same, then signaled for the docking bay to decompress and the doors open. They did with creaking groans and grinding of gears, torture on the audios and just more proof that the dents riddled in the hull prevented a smooth opening. The bulky black mech then signaled everyone to turn on private comms, and waited for the five acknowledgement pings. The lights dimmed to allow for no glare as the inky black of space finally came into view as the last of the blast doors rolled away, one half gone the other barely rolling on its hinges.

It was time to go.

: Primus… : Sideswipe muttered over the interlink, his voice filled with sickened despair as pieces of grayed corpses floated by among the debris of spilled flash frozen fluids and crates and parts. : There are sparklings floating around here. :

: Looks like it was a Seeker neutral ship. : Hoist commented sadly, moving half of a remaining wing out of his path. : Gone in a matter of seconds. They had barely cleared Decepticon controlled space. :

Ironhide said nothing, his tanks churning as his own large servos gently cupping and redirecting the path of a grayed sparkling's trajectory. The little winglets had barely begun to grow in, the young spark extinguished before it had even had a chance to experience life. A sharp pang of despair seized his spark and he had to look away from the small faceplates twisted in pain or risk losing his composure. : Not too much further until we reach what's left of the hull. Keep a tight formation here. I don't want any nasty surprises. :

Acknowledgement pings were given and received before the group carried on in heavy, gloomy silence. Ironhide was the first to reach the darkened hull, his pedes magnetizing to the metal before he looked over the edge he was clinging to. The burns were consistent with heavy fusion fire, the kind often found on a Decepticon Warship. Or Trypticon. The thin metal of a transport shuttle didn't stand a chance.

: They didn't stand a chance. : Hoist murmured, unintentionally echoing Ironhide's own thoughts.

Sunstreaker magnetized to the hull beside him, saying nothing, but his optics were keen on everything around. Each new splatter of energon, each new body, each sparking wire and the ice blues would flash whiter with his anger. Ironhide didn't need the twin bond that existed between the rare pairs of split-spark twins to know that Sunstreaker was seething.

Nobody deserved this.

Bumblebee was equally as quiet, but unlike Sunstreaker his faceplates openly showed his dismay. Sideswipe looked ready to break something in half. First Aid… one couldn't really tell with the mask and visor in place, but the young medic was most likely feeling sick to his tanks and hurting over the lost of life the most. Poor kid.

: Alright, mechs. Move forward and search for anything salvageable. Keep your sensors sharp and your weapons primed. We don't know what could be lurking in here. Sunstreaker yer with Aid. Sideswipe, cover Hoist and Bee, yer with me. :

There was some grumbling to the arrangement, mostly from the twins, but each group chose a course to take through the wreckage. They kept the interlink open for emergencies and play by play if they needed Hoist's opinion or First Aid's.

:Is this thing salvageable? : Hoist studied the twisted piece of – something – before shaking his helm decisively. Sideswipe frowned and grabbed at the next piece of useless metal that floated his way. : This? :

: Does it look usable to you, Sideswipe? : Hoist by nature was not a very irritable mech and had a lot of patience. Sideswipe, by nature, did not. And he was bored. So it was apparently time to play 'How long until Hoist blows his top?'

So far, Hoist was winning, frag it.

After making a show of studying it intensely for a moment, Sideswipe had to concede. : I suppose not. : He shoved the blackened metal away, watching it fly across the small barely intact room they had found in the zero-g until it hit one of the walls with a reverberating noiseless ricochet. Fragging space couldn't even let him have a satisfying clang.

Hoist sighed internally as he picked through intact crates of items that might have been useful for Seekers and sparklings, but not so much for a battle cruiser. His tanks churned sickeningly as he set aside the sparkling grade energon that was never to be used for those it had be intended for. Ratchet may be able to convert it into something more powerful, but it was a long shot he wasn't sure they should take. As he sorted the supplies that had survived the attack, he tried his best not to process how many lives had been lost here. Seekers or not, they had been neutral and had done no bot harm. They were just a group of Cybertronians trying desperately to escape this war and save their sparklings.

: Hoist! :

: Is it blackened, twisted, and otherwise unrecognizable? : The architect didn't even bother to pull away from his task to look.

: Well, kinda - :

: Then it's probably not usable. :

There was silence for a moment, as Hoist resettled into the labourous task of sorting through a crate of wires he had luckily found. Then Sideswipe spoke again, this time more hesitant.

: So, um, that thing I was trying to get your attention for… :

Hoist was coming very close to losing this game Sideswipe was playing. : Sideswipe, it's useless. Can we please get back to work? :

: Uhh… I wasn't aware that something that has a spark is useless unless it's a Decepticon. :

That brought Hoist up short. He had turned and launched himself across the room, landing next to Sideswipe's crouched form to stare into a broken crevice that had been halfway protected by the crates surrounding it. Staring back at him was glaring, panic and anger filled golden optics.

: Primus… : Hoist breathed. : First Aid, Ironhide, we need your teams here now! :

Ironhide and Sunstreaker carefully pulled away the last of the wall separating them from the survivor. And there in itself was a thought to fill the grizzled old mech's spark with hope. A survivor! How the Seeker mech had survived was still a toss-up in the air, but he had. Now they had to get First Aid to him to examine the damage.

The peeled wall fell into the zero-g grip of the unknown, floating away and leaving the hollowed out stowaway compartment open for First Aid to study his patient. The seeker inside gnashed his denta at them, indicating to the Junior Medic that he was suffering from post traumatic stress that was only enhanced from being trapped in a tight space. His red-orange coloring was barely visible in patches here and there among the blackened armor and a sickeningly large diameter of energon was pooled around him. He'd lost much, if the flickering of his optics was anything. One arm, sparking and damaged as it was, was curled up underneath him, most likely holding a wound.

One wing had been torn away from his frame and was most likely now one of the many floating pieces of unrecognizable debris. The other was bent and crumpled, energon leaking from the ruined struts. The mech must have been in agony. He was also panicked and a panicked Seeker was dangerous to work with.

All of this fell to the wayside, First Aid's most pressing concern the large metal beam that was impaling the mech's midsection and the collapsed in hull that was crushing the flier's legs. The fact that the mech was alive was a miracle in and of itself.

: Careful kid. : Ironhide said as First Aid moved slowly forward, palms up to indicate he was unarmed. The Protectobot nodded slightly, taking another step forward. Another… another… one more…

First Aid reared back as the arm not protecting the Seeker's side lashed out, claw tips out and ready to tear if First Aid came too close again. His fanged denta bared in an angry grimace. : Calm down… : The medic said softly over open broadcast, waving away the battle ready Sideswipe. : We're not here to hurt you. We're here to help. :

The reply that came back was harsh and weak all at once. : Back off, Autobot! Don't come any closer! :

First Aid stayed where he was, kneeling on the warped plating of the ruined deck of what must have been the shuttles storage area. : I am not going to hurt you. I need to look at your wound if you are going to survive. :

The golden optics narrowed. : I don't believe you! Vos is gone because of your kind! I - : The harmonic voice petered off for a moment, haggard and broken. : I lost my intended because of you… :

Ironhide would have been the first to admit that Vos was a sparkles attack, and although it had been the now extinct Council's order to destroy it, it had been the Autobot army who did the dirty work. His spark ached for the suffering mech, but he'd be fragged sideways if he let Prime and his mechs take the fall for the ship's destruction. That had been all on the Decepticon's shoulders. : This was Decepticon work, Seeker. Don't you put this off on us. :

: There wouldn't be a war if it weren't for you Autobots and your fragging caste system! : Was the heated reply.

: Things are changing now… : First Aid assured before Ironhide's temper could flare up and cost him a patient. : The new Prime refuses to allow the caste system among his ranks and even extends his servo to some Decepticon reformers. : His voice remained calm and soothing, the effect taking its desired toll as the Seeker's optics flickered uncertainly. Even so, First Aid's own didn't leave the flexing talons. : Please. Let me come there and help. If you do not allow me near, I cannot - :

: Too late for me. : This time the voice was filled with pain, both emotional and physical. : Not gonna survive this. I won't make it but…: The pained filled optics glanced back up at the medic. : You're a medic. : The seeker was surprised this time, as if registering this fact for the first time. : You're a medic. You have to help them! You can't let them die here! Please! :

The tone which had been so full of rage and pride was now only filled with desperate pleading. Golden optics glowed brightly, brimming with optical fluid that beaded off and away as it was released into the gravity-less space, the change taking every mech there by surprise. First Aid, seeing this as a good sign, moved closer, almost within reaching distance. : Help who? :

There was hesitance, fear mingled with desperation as the Seeker's blackened, and injured faceplates pulled into a pained grimace as he moved his arm away from his side, claws retracting. First Aid frowned under his mask, moving carefully into the small alcove so he could better see. The mech had been right about his own survival now that the medic had a better look at the damage. It once more amazed him that the mech was even still online. His gaze was brought to the mech's surprisingly undamaged cockpit by a small whimper of fear. His optics widened, the effect making his visor glow brightly. : Dear Primus! : He exclaimed over the private interlink.

: What is it! : Ironhide's tense voice over the link was filled with taut worry.

: Sparklings. : Was the whispered reply. : I have two Seeker sparklings here, sir. Both are alive. : He reached for the biggest, the little orange mechling whimpering and curling himself deeper into the older Seeker's side away from the reaching servo, pulling what appeared to be an infant mech with him. : Very scared sparklings… :

Over the open broadcast there were a few clicks and whistles that was accompanied by a soothing chirr. Seeker cant, First Aid realized as he watched the mechling uncurled himself slowly, yellow optics trained warily on the looming facemask of the stranger. A few more clicks and the sparkling allowed First Aid to pull the infant away gently before allowing the strange mech to tug him away from his kin as well.

The medic backed carefully from the alcove, sparklings firmly tucked into his arms. Arms that were suddenly filled with frantic and terrified squirming as the orange winglet's optics alighted on the many other mechs. Distressed trilling filled the open broadcast as the sparkling reached for his sire, little black servos grasping at nothing. The dying mech reached a servo out and let his sparkling cling to it as he chanted softly to the terrified child.

All mechs in the room looked on with dismay.

: You will take care of them? :

: We will. : Ironhide said firmly, kneeling down and grasping the mech's mangled servo after his child had been convinced to let go anger forgotten. : What is your designation, Seeker? :

The Seeker stared at him with indefinable emotion in his wide optics before he spoke softly, gaze drifting back to the awake and terrified Seekerlet and the exhausted recharging infant. : Overstrike. My designation is Overstrike. :

: The mechlets have designations as well? :

: Stormvice and Pinpoint. Stormvice is the older. Pinpoint is his brother. They are mine. : The red-orange blackened servo squeezed with failing strength at the rough black servo.

Ironhide's gaze softened. : They will not be allowed to forget you. :

Overstrike's optics over flowed and the first small smile appeared on his faceplates. He released Ironhide's servo and reached out to stroke at his children's plating. Stormvice nuzzled into his sire's servo, seeking comfort. : Thank you… :

The servo dropped away, the mech's strength finally failing now that he no longer need worry about his children's survival. It was silent; all aside from Stormvice's spark wrenching wailing that filled the open link. Ironhide stared a few more moments at one of the bravest mechs he had ever had the honor to meet, before turning to First Aid and reaching out for the wailing sparkling. : Here Aid. Let me. :

First Aid handed the small being over and Ironhide tucked the mechlet firmly against his chassis, setting his plating to vibrate soothingly and allowing the small frame to cling to him. He turned to his team. : There's nothing more we can do here, mechs. Let's head back for the Ark.:


	2. Survivors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, well, this bit me hard AGAIN this week and I know I should be working on HiWtHi, but you all know how the muses work. So I typed and wrote until this came out. Still not satisfied with the ending, but at least it leaves me with how I want to begin the next chapter ^^
> 
> It's nice to know that I still have at least inspiration for something atm. Seriously. Most have my muses have been dead. And my inspiration.
> 
> I have also recently learned that when in doubt, page breaks are a girl's best friend XD
> 
> Almost have the pairings hammered out and I know who I want to be their caretakers. Thanks for Darkeyes17 and her help when I was feeling slow.
> 
> Well, hope you enjoy this ^^ Character development begins more in the next chapter so keep in tuned!
> 
> Disclaimer: Insert witty comment about how I don't own Transformers here...
> 
> Enjoy~

The way back was just as easy as the first and yet at same time two hundred times harder.

The moment that Ironhide had made for the exit, Stormvice had begun wailing again. His attempts to twist out of Ironhide's burly arms had become more desperate the further away they became from their sire. It tugged painfully on Ironhide's spark to watch the mechlet wail with tears falling to bubbles of liquid and his little mouth open on his wails. The sparkling didn't seem to understand that his Sire was gone. He was most likely in pain, from the broken creator-creation bond, and reaching out for the emptiness that had once been the warmth of his Sire's spark.

Ironhide knew only far too well what that was like.

First Aid had inspected them already and aside from a few burns and dents and scrapes in their delicate plating they were mostly just hungry, but not underfed. And further analysis told First Aid that the reason for that was Overstrike had most likely been using his own leaking energon to feed his children. The lack of major injuries suggested to the experienced warriors all too well what had happened.

Just as the hull began to collapse, Overstrike grabbed for his children, twisting his frame to protect them from falling debris. Their screams echoed in his audios as the metal of the bulkhead finally buckled as he ducked behind two large crates, seeking shelter. He curled around his sparklings, tucking them into the bubble of space he hade made between himself and the floor before agony and fear swept through his body. His last thought was of his children and long dead intended before he blacked out, Stormvice and Pinpoint's cries all he could hear…

The image was only too easy to imagine.

Looking back over his own shoulder, just as they lifted off, Stormvice having wailed himself out of the rest of his energy and now tucked into his carry hold, recharging, Ironhide bid the offlined Seeker farewell. Overstrike would forever have a place in his memory as the bravest mech to have ever flown in the skies of Cybertron and out of them. To have stayed online through pain and kin-loss to make sure the future of his children was assured deserved a medal in and of itself.

The Weapons Specialist of the Ark, thought of the small, green sparkling in First Aid's own carry hold. The small thing was recharging and when Ironhide said small, he meant small. Stormvice, the Protectobot had said, was approximately three vorns of age, and his little wings were barely peeking out from behind his shoulders. Pinpoint was much, much smaller. Ironhide could have cupped his servo and been able to hold the curled up infant. He still only had nubs on his back where the wings would grow in. First Aid was only guessing their ages, but they would be back soon and then Ratchet could look them over.

: Alright, I've comm'd ahead to Prowl that we have supplies and precious cargo with us. He and Prime are going to meet us at the docking bay with Ratchet and a few others. : Bumblebee said, tugging a large crate between himself and Hoist. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had their own cargo, a crate a piece and several nets over their shoulders containing the sparkling grade energon and various other materials they would need. Ironhide himself was carting a large metal tube that was filled with replacement parts Ratchet may find useful, and if not, they could always be melted down and used somewhere else in the ship.

First Aid had gotten lucky, having found various medical supplies that they had desperately been needing, including anesthetics and other pain killers. Even some medical tools… and a big heavy wrench that Ironhide was determined to keep away from Ratchet.

In fact, he was pretty sure every mech there except the blissfully ignorant First Aid were going to make sure it never found it's way into Ratchet's deadly, accurate servos.

A light pinged in his HUD, Prime signaling that they were opening the docking bay doors.

: Alright, doors are opening. We go in pairs. Hoist and Bee, you're first. :

They all watched as the two minibots floated forward with the help of their short burst jet packs as the doors opened (thankfully) soundlessly in the void of space. It was a small blessing considering that in moments, they would be standing inside and finding the need to turn down their audios as they closed shut again. Hoist led, falling into point as they descended to the decking, both magnetizing to it and saluting.

: Sunny, Sides, you're next. :

He received a grin and a scowl in return, Sideswipe looking forward to putting his burden down (even if it weighed practically nothing out here) and Sunstreaker annoyed at the nickname, but not daring to argue with Ironhide over it. Smart lad.

The doors had opened completely now, leaving the docking bay open to view. Prime was there and so was Prowl. Both stood silently, waiting while Jazz grinned like the loon he was at them from where he leaned beside the door controls. Ratchet was a few meters behind him, trademark scowl in place and pearl white arms crossed over the glass of his chassis. Behind the four of them were about nine or so mechs loitering around and pretending to have important reasons to be there. Ironhide frowned and he could sense First Aid's own apprehension about all of the mechs waiting for them. They watched as Sunstreaker and Sideswipe anchored themselves to the decking and moved aside to secure their cargo and allow Ironhide and First Aid room to come in.

They did so, First Aid taking point and Ironhide following. Coming in wasn't much trouble, both having done this enough to have a good feel of it without somehow crashing into their destination. As soon as they had secured themselves, both feeling the pull of the magnets in their pedes and the distinct reverberation of their pedes hitting the decking, Ironhide cast a meaningful glare around the bay. The doors were already closing behind them, the grating squeals of the dented metal making all of their audios ring (Sunstreaker and Hoist among several others flinched). Ironhide continued to glare through it, jazz seemingly catching on and he helped Ratchet to clear away the loitering mechs before comm'ing Red Alert in the Security Hub to lockdown the docking bay.

The doors finished closing and secured with a groaning hiss and the sound of clamping locks engaging that echoed around the almost empty platform before petering into silence. Sunstreaker and Hoist sighed gratefully, Sideswipe snickering at his brother which led Ironhide to believe he had shut his audios off. As soon as the last echo had died away, Prime stepped forward to speak.

"Report."

The black behemoth nodded before running through his quick debrief of what they had salvaged and he could see the irritation building on Prowl's face as he ran through the small list.

"I was under the impression that there was something important to be discussed." The Second in Command said, doorwings twitching irritably. "Reciting a list of found and needed items hardly seems like reasonable grounds to request our presence immediately and to clear the docking bay."

Before either Weapons Master or Protectobot Medic could answer, Ratchet spoke up from where he was going through the assorted material. "Just why is there sparkling energon in here? It's not very useful and I certainly can't do anything with it."

The room was deathly silent as the words soaked in and seeped their way into the assembled mechs' processors.

"Dear Primus." Jazz whispered, horrified. "There were sparklin's on tha' ship."

"It was a Seeker Neutral ship." First Aid supplied hesitantly. The kid was a brilliant protégé in medicine, but he was in no way comfortable as a public speaker. "We saw hatchling protoforms floating among the debris."

Everybot in the room looked distinctly sick, but none more so that Optimus. Ironhide could only imagine what the news did to him.

"Didn't the Seekers have a deal with Megatron?" Prowl asked, confusion tinting his otherwise neutral tone.

"It would appear that Megatron is not seeking to keep his deals. Even to his own army." Optimus said sadly.

"We already knew that." Ratchet grouched, still digging through the medical tools First Aid had brought with them.

Prowl suddenly looked thoughtful. "This could work to our advantage. Perhaps if there were a few who were shown the truth it would create unrest among Megatron's forces."

"Would they even believe us?" Hoist asked.

"Ah would say we have some compelling evidence…" The saboteur said wryly, clawed black digit jabbing to the closed blast doors.

Optimus was staring at the fidgeting First Aid and the strangely silent Ironhide. "That is not all, is it?"

"Well, we did find survivors…" The Protectobot began before Ratchet interrupted.

"And you didn't bring them with you?" His tone was sharp and accusing, First Aid wilting slightly.

"That's why we needed the room cleared and for you to meet us here." Ironhide cut across Ratchet's protests before he could go off on one of his famous temper tantrums before anything could be explained. "We don't need them stressed anymore as it is."

"Oh?" The CMO's optics narrowed, suggesting that an explanation had better come quickly. His arms had crossed over his chassis again.

Ironhide didn't waste another word, instead pressing a digit to his mouth to indicate quiet as he carefully opened his carrying hold and prompting wide optic'd realization as he reached in and gently removed the sleeping winglet. Stormvice, thankfully, remained in recharge though his little face was glistening with flash frozen optical fluid and his little cheeks were still flushed from all his crying. The orange Seeker child curled further into the warm crook of Ironhide's arm, tiny clawed servos hooking on plating.

First Aid did the same, the little green frame of Pinpoint cupped in both of his servos. Unlike his brother, however, the tiny infant was awake and staring curiously without fear at all of the new faces around him with wide, innocent orange-yellow optics. That was a surprise. He chirred softly, sounding confused, little firsts curling and uncurling as his little brow furrowed.

You could practically see Optimus melt.

And then they all startled when a loud clang echoed through the room. This in turn had the consequence of waking up Stormvice with a frightened squeak. There were a few blurry moments of the sparkling shuttering and then reshuttering his optic covers while the mechs in the room glared at Sideswipe who had knocked over a pile of the salvaged metal beams they had gathered.

The first terrified hiccup was all the warning they received before an audio shattering howl of fear escaped the sparkling's vocalizer.

They all cringed before looking absolutely at a loss. That was, they were at a loss until Optimus could take no more of his spark breaking and snatched the tiny thing from Ironhide to cuddle him close to his spark. After several soothing pulses of his spark energy and the Matrix reaching for the small terrified spark, Stormvice soothed enough to stop wailing. Yet the tears continued to streak down his cheeks.

Optimus wasn't sure what was worse. The silent weeping or the loud sobbing.

Stormvice, as Optimus had learned the small orange seeker was called, had exhausted himself into recharge again and lay curled on the medberth beside the Prime's leg and blanketed by the large servo. The green infant, Pinpoint, was still wide awake and curious. Wide optics wandered around the medbay, little things making him chirp and coo with the occasional clap that startled Optimus a few times.

Both had been through so much so young, but the only one seemingly old enough to have been affected negatively was Stormvice.

Ratchet was still scanning their different spark energies, frowning. Jazz had remained in the docking bay to oversee the sorting of the supplies along with Hoist who would help field questions until Prime decided it was time to release such sensitive information. The medbay was blessedly quiet as well, Ratchet's base wide threat warning mechs away keeping them away.

"And he claimed them brothers?" Ratchet was asking of First Aid, the Protectobot rocking Pinpoint gently while the winglet swatted at his chassis.

His protégé nodded. "Yes sir."

"Hmmm…" Ratchet turned back to the screens. "Well, one thing is for sure. They are not spark brothers. In fact, Stormvice's spark energy patterns doesn't even fit in with those of Pinpoint and the sample of Overstrike's you brought for me. Pinpoint was indeed his…" He trailed off, mumbling for himself for a few moments before realization washed over his features. "Of course. If Stormvice had maybe lost his creators before and was in the process of an imprint…"

"Then he has lost his parental support twice." Optimus intoned sadly.

"It would seem that way." Ratchet sighed, his gaze lingering on the curled ball of Seekerlet. "Frag." He scrubbed his servos across his faceplates. "They're going to have to stay here, aren't they?"

Optimus sat and thought. "That is a decision I cannot make on my own, Ratchet. We will need the cooperation of the Ark to keep them safe and in a stable environment until a solution is found. As for now, yes. They will need to stay. Where else would they go?"

A long, deep sigh punctuated by the rattling of vents as the medico came to stand beside his leader and look down at the miserable little bundle of Seekerling. "He's going to have a rough time ahead of him, this one." He grimaced. "Megatron is going to have a lot of answering to do when he finally faces Primus."

"Sirs…" First Aid interrupted, walking up to the both of them, Pinpoint now stuffing one of the white digits into his mouth and chewing on it. "What are we going to do about caring arrangements?"

Both Autobot Leader and CMO frowned at that. "That does pose a problem." Optimus rumbled.

"Prime, I would be willing to take them - " Ironhide spoke up from where he was leaning against the wall beside the doors.

"No."

"But Ratchet-"

"No, Ironhide." The medic was firm on this. "You're an officer of the Autobot Army, Weapons Master and Trainer, a frontline warrior and the Prime's bodyguard! The last thing we need is for you attention to be split raising younglings on top of it!"

"They're going to need someone who's goin' ta be understandin' and ablt ta protect them, medic! From Decepticons and Autobots alike! You can't pretend that every Autobot out there is going to accept them merely because they're sparklin's! They're gonna take one look and just think 'Seeker'!"

"You glitch CPU'd defragger! You don't think I know that! I'm just saying it can't be you! Or any other officer for that matter!" Despite the harsh words going back and forth, both were aware to keep their voices quiet for the exhausted Stormvice who was beginning to turn restlessly in his sleep until Optimus picked him up to cradle his against his chestplates where he settled again.

It was at this point that Pinpoint decided that he was tired of being ignored. He bit down irritably on the digit in his mouth, sharp little infantile dentae digging into the sensitive plating on the junior medic's servos.

"Ow!" The Protectobot jerked his finger away on a knee jerk reaction, rather more forcefully than he had meant to and startling Pinpoint.

The baby whimpered, big fat tears starting to gather in his optics and bottom lip quivering before he opened his mouth to wail… Only to be whisked into the CMO's arms and a tube originating from the medic's wrist stuck into his mouth.

The baby chewed on it for a moment, before offering a happy chirp and sucking on the tube vigorously, no tear shed involved. Every mech looked at the CMO curiously, waiting for explanation.

"He was hungry."

"How do you know that?" Ironhide asked, watching First Aid inspect his bitten digit.

"The way he kept putting Aid's digit in his mouth and the fact that he was bitten. Infants this small only use their mouths for two things. Making noise and eating. He most likely got frustrated he wasn't finding anything in Aid's digit that can be comprised of energon."

"Oh."

"He sure does bite hard." First Aid sighed, after coming to the conclusion that his digit wasn't damaged beyond scuffed paint.

"Not at all." Ratchet clarified, glowering at the grinning Ironhide. It was rather hard to look intimidating with an infant feeding in your arms afterall. "His jaws aren't strong enough to really do any damage. You're a medic Aid. You should know this."

"Oh! My servos…" First Aid sounded sheepish. It was true, now that he thought of it. Should the child have bitten Ironhide or even one of his brothers, they would have only felt pressure. However, a medic's servos were their most important tools and therefore the most sensitive appendage on their frames.

No wonder it had hurt.

At that moment, the medbay doors cycled open, two mechs coming through. One was lying over the other's shoulder, the smaller struggling to support him. First Aid rushed forward, recognizing his brothers. "What happened?" He asked, before Ratchet could snap at them.

"Well, seems that Blades kind of … well…" The tan and white two wheeler otherwise known as Groove began.

"Please do not tell me he got into another fight with Slingshot." Ratchet growled menacingly, his engine revving and making the small Pinpoint begin to purr as he filled up.

Groove shook his helm. "Nah. Sunstreaker." He breathed a sigh of relief as First Aid and Ironhide relieved him of his brother's weight. "Oh, hey… O…P… That's a sparkling."

"It is." Optimus said carefully, the little bundle in his arms stirring.

"A Seeker sparkling." Groove clarified.

It was silent for quite a few moments, allowing Stormvice's optics to open and widen as he plastered himself to the Prime and glanced in fear at all the faces around him. Especially the new ones. He whimpered in fear, pressing even closer to the Prime whom his spark had already recognized as safety. They held their collective intakes, waiting for the Protectobot's reaction. Groove, not one who wasn't sensitive to the atmosphere around him knew they were waiting for… something.

So, as he was wont to do, he went with the most natural thing he felt.

"He's cute."

The atmosphere of the room lightened considerably as Groove drew closer to get a better view and Stormvice tried to burrow further into Optimus' embrace.

Pinpoint, sensing the distress of his adopted brother, spat out the feeding line and trilled, drawing Groove's attention. "There are two of them…" Realization hit and cobalt blue optics widened. "Survivors."

"Yes. Survivors." Optimus said, extracting the little black claws of Stormvice's servos from his armor before setting him down. He had just received and urgent communiqué from Prowl on the bridge and was needed immediately. The little flier made a noise of distress as the large mech moved away, taking the warmth of his spark with him.

Prime's spark constricted and he hesitated at the door.

A hand on his arm brought his attention to the small Protectobot.

"Go, Prime. I'll watch him for ya."

Optimus hesitated, looking at the once more silently crying orange Seekerlet. "Thank you, Groove. Ratchet, I'll return when this is taken care of."

With that, he turned and left the room, Ironhide right behind him.


End file.
